The Elusive Butterfly
by The Illustrious Crackpot
Summary: Rita questions exactly how she feels about Runt, and decides to tell him that she's a cat. But things are happening too fast...
1. Prologue: Some Enchanted Evening

_OK, I really hate long authors' notes, so I'll try to keep this as short as possible. FIRST: I apologize to fans of "Fairly Zany Tales", but I've been plagued by writer's block and general disinterest, though you might get another installment...someday... SECOND: Please don't make plot suggestions, I have this whole story written already and busted a gut over it and I don't want to hear it. THIRD: All the songs in here are original compositions, though the story title is the name of a song written by Bob Lind and the chapter titles are all names of songs from Broadway musicals—I dare someone to be able to identify them all. And FOURTH: This story dedicated to Pinky Lillix because I pestered her to proofread this for several months, and her positive comments gave me confidence in a story I'd thought was weak and terrible. Now let's get on with it, shall we?_

**The Elusive Butterfly**

(The Illustrious Crackpot)

Prologue: Some Enchanted Evening

Evening...my favorite time of day. The cool night breeze ruffled through my gray fur, and I arched my back, reveling in it. My white-tipped paws were balanced delicately on top of a fire hydrant, but not for long as I made a fluid leap to a nearby bench. I landed perfectly on all fours, twitching my long tail hypnotically. Raising a forepaw, I ran my tongue across it casually and smoothed down the fur on top of my head, batting playfully at one of my triangular ears. Anyone watching would have thought it was rehearsed; everything flowed perfectly, every move made flawlessly, not a single hair out of place.

It's all about the rhythm and timing. If the beat flows right, you've got a hit. If the timing's messed up, you're gonna take a fall.

And that's what I did just then as something unexpectedly bowled me over. I was knocked fully off the bench, flying forwards for a few feet before skidding to a painful halt on the sidewalk. I inhaled in a sharp hiss, wobbling to all fours and quickly smoothing myself out again with a paw. Then I glared up at the huge dog smothering the bench, a gargantuan tan mongrel with an unruly pile of russet headfur and two long black ears. His giant paws were all balanced together on a single point as he stared down confusedly at me. "Gee, Rita," he began, cocking his head to the side, "what'cha doin' down there?"

I grumbled something under my breath, but stretched myself out in an arcing motion, the effort rippling my fur like a wave as the movement progressed backwards down my spine. Then out came the tongue again, and I smoothed everything down. _Perfectly placed. Perfectly coordinated._

"Oh, I dunno, Runt," I replied sarcastically, "I just wanted to see what the _curb_ felt like." I padded lightly back towards the bench and used my eyes to bore a hole in his thick skull. Rather than interpreting the gesture as it was meant, though, Runt's lower jaw flopped open and he grinned, tongue lolling out like a big pink rug.

"Oh, good, yeah, _definitely _good," he panted, then jumped down from the bench. His feet slipped awkwardly as his knees realized that they weren't correctly placed to hold up that much dog, and Runt was soon sprawled flat on his stomach. I trotted over, then stood erect on my back feet and leaned over his head to glower disapprovingly down at him. The mutt just smiled wider, wagging his stubby tail furiously. "Hiya, Rita."

I reached down and poked him on the nose, a big black sphere protruding out of his face. "Nice landing, big fella," I noticed, once more utilizing sarcasm. Runt wouldn't understand it; he never _did_ get the gist of that type of comedy.

"Thanks, Rita, yeah, _definitely_ thanks." Struggling comically like Bambi on the ice, Runt managed to get to his feet. His stubby little tail flapped enthusiastically out of tempo. Of anyone—or any_thing_—I'd ever seen, Runt was the least coordinated. No rhythm, no discernible beat, and the only timing he had was in split-second rescues—and even _those_ cut it pretty fine. But he was decent...for a _dog_.

"Hey, Rita," Runt interrupted suddenly as we began padding down the street, "where're we gonna sleep tonight?"

The question made me sigh. "Dunno," I answered, shrugging slightly, then as I caught the beat I jumped lightly on top of an upturned garbage can outside a deli. The timing was right, the _rhythm_ was right, and standing impressively on my back paws I began to sing.

"_But we'll fiiiiiiind someWHERE..._

_There's always another home._

_Oh, we'll fiiiiiiiiiiiind somewhere_

_No matter where we have to roooooooooam..."_

I lapsed into a small silence and twitched my tail rhythmically, listening to the accompanying music floating out the windows of the delicatessen. My eyes half-closed, I watched Runt on the sidewalk below, his tongue hanging out as he panted enthusiastically. The image seemed blurry, and it all felt somewhat unreal. When I sing, I always go into a bit of a trance, almost completely detached and not even fully taking in my surroundings. It felt like from an infinite distance that I pounced fluidly onto a cardboard box, scooping up an apple core from the ground nearby and fondling it reflectively as I resumed.

"_The streets of life have taken us..._

_We'll walk where e'er they go._

_And see if we will give a fuss_

'_Cus we just want to knoooooooooooow..."_

I descended from the box, standing on the pavement before Runt. His stubby tail was wagging even faster as I extended my arms to the skies, reaching a crescendo higher and louder than I had ever done.

"_SomeDAAAAAAAAAY_

_If we can find a place,_

_SomeDAAAAAAAAAAY_

_That it won't BE a waste,_

_SomeDAAAAAAAAAAY..."_

I trailed off quietly, lowering my arms and settling back on my haunches. Runt leaned in inquisitively, his floppy ears raising slightly to catch the final, almost-silent measures.

"_Where we can find a place..._

_Called..._

_Hooooooooooooooooome..."_

The music petered out. My tail stopped moving, and my head lowered dramatically. Slowly, ever-so-slowly, my vision became clearer and I felt a more tangible connection to all of my limbs. The rhythm was right; I returned to myself.

"Gee, Rita," Runt panted once he was certain that I had finished, "you sing real nice for a dog. Yeah, _real_ nice."

My ears stiffened a bit at that, then lowered a little guiltily. "Ehhhh...Runt..." I began, meaning to finally tell him, but I stopped myself. The timing wasn't right. _If the timing's messed up, you're gonna take a fall_. "...Thanks."

The big lug didn't even notice my hesitance, dropping himself into a four-legged squat as he continued his doggish panting. I obligingly propelled myself onto his back, circling a little before settling myself comfortably in one of the contours of his spine. Once I was secure, Runt cautiously stood back up, then plodded down the street with me balanced like an Arabian prince riding an elephant.

"But really, Rita," Runt broke in, tilting his head back in an attempt to look at me, "where _are_ we gonna sleep tonight?"

I emitted a slow purr, stretching my forepaws a bit, but not enough to upset his stride. "I'm sure this city's got some nice alleys," I commented. Runt's smile widened, and he turned his head back to watch the sidewalk in front of him.

"Sure. Nice alleys, definitely, _definitely_ nice."

The corners of my own mouth twitched upwards a little at the sound of his voice, and I leaned forward to nestle my head in my forepaws. My eyelids lowered, and I watched Runt's ears flop from side to side with each of his steps. I probably _could_ take a little nap now, I thought as my eyelids lowered some more. A sense of security was already lulling me to sleep. _Runt won't move fast enough to dislodge me. He's always careful when I'm up here._

He _was_ a pretty good dog, I decided as my eyes finally closed, and I found myself asleep.


	2. The Song That Goes Like This

The Song That Goes Like This

For the first time in too long, I woke up slowly, blinking my way to consciousness rather than being jolted into it by an irate human. I raised my head groggily, squinting into the light peeking just over a high fence nearby. _Morning_. Where were we?

I looked around, moving my head as little as possible. It was a back alley, just as I had recommended, with two big red brick buildings on either side. The fence connected them, and after raising my head I still couldn't see over it, so I lost interest. Instead, I turned my attention in other directions, scoping out the nearby street. It was pretty quiet now, since rush hour was still a ways away. I blinked slowly, then my nose twitched. Where was Runt?

Suddenly the ground gently heaved below me, and I sprang to my senses both figuratively and literally. When I landed back on all fours, I realized that the big mutt was right below me, snoring peacefully. Rather than waking me when we got to a suitable alley, he'd just lied down right there. I sighed, leaning my head back down against his furry back—more like a small _hill_ than a _dog_. Geez...it was still too early for me.

I tried to focus on something solid, something I could stare at until I fell asleep again. Runt's big black nose stuck out like a sore thumb, so I inched forwards on the massive dog's back and looked down at it. There it was, jutting off his snout like an olive on a stick. Unconsciously, I began to smile. With his eyes closed like that, his mouth making alternately an "O" and a sideways "U" as he breathed, he looked real innocent. Like a puppy. I stretched my paws out in front of me, watching the nose bob up and down with his hushed snores. As I stared, I felt a kind of warmth inside me, rippling down my spine until it tingled in the tips of my ears. My tail glided from side to side through the air, like how a dog wags its tail.

_Dog_. When was I gonna tell Runt? Ya can't exactly lie to a guy forever. But the timing was _all wrong_. I couldn't just wake Runt up and say "Hey, y'know, I'm not really a dog, I'm a cat." That'd be like a human lady waking up her husband to say "Ummmm...remember our kid? Well, you're not _exactly_ his father."

A _little_ bit awkward, wouldn't'cha think?

I tried to reason out the matter some more, but the thoughts tuned out into fizzy background noise as I continued to stare at Runt's nose. My eyes followed it hypnotically, long gray tail twitching at the same tempo. It's a weakness we cats have—if we spot something moving in a steady, unwavering beat, we get completely mesmerized by it and have to stare it down like prey. Me, though, I'd been staring at that big black knob for long enough that I was ready to strike.

I bopped Runt on the nose.

In a flash the dog was up, leaping to his feet in a huge jolt and going all out with barking. And, lucky me, his spine arched spasmodically beneath me, sending me flying into the brick wall behind us.

_SPLAT_.

It was another few seconds before the big lug turned around and spotted the gray, cat-shaped smudge on the building. And what did he do? He grinned, stuck his tongue out and trotted over, panting like a lunatic.

"Hiya, Rita," he yipped, scratching himself with a back paw. His ears flopped crazily about on his head. "Gee, why'd ya sleep over there? That doesn't look very comfortable, nope, _definitely_ not."

My eyelids dropped slightly, and I gave him my best deadpan expression. I had become used to that sort of thing.. "No, Runt, it's _very_ relaxing," I grumbled, my voice hoarse from the recent compression of my windpipe. "You should _try_ it sometime." Giving a massive effort, I tried to peel one of my forearms off the wall, but it was stuck and some of my nerve endings were still dead. I sighed, then turned to Runt. "Little help?" I suggested only a _little_ testily.

At first the big dog seemed confused, but then his stubby tail snapped straight up and he bounded forwards. "Oh, sure, Rita, _definitely_," he agreed, then gently clamped my right arm in his jaws and tugged. It was a bit painful, but he managed to remove it from the wall. I shook the limb experimentally, and it popped back out to its normal dimensions. Flexing the fingers, I slid my claws behind my compressed left shoulder and popped myself off the bricks, reinflating and landing on my feet just in time.

"Rita has left the building," I had to mutter, smiling to myself at the joke. It wasn't all the time that I could think of witty comments without someone else to play off first.

"Whad'ja say, Rita?"

I jumped slightly, having somehow forgotten that Runt was there. Bit hard to do, seeing as he took up almost the entire alley by himself, but I had managed it. "Nothing," I reassured him, still smiling. Ehhh, he wouldn't've gotten it.

"Hmmm." Runt cocked his head to the side a little, scratching it emphatically to make sure he caught any missed fleas, then sat upright again. "That's funny, I thought, I _definitely_ thought I heard ya say something."

For no apparent reason, I started to feel a bit guilty. Like the joke had been at _his_ expense. "...Actually, Runt," I confessed, raising a forepaw a bit embarrassedly, "I said 'Rita has left the building'."

There was a long, slow pause.

"Huh?"

My ears flopped over a little. "It's a _joke_. It's supposed to be _funny_. Get it?"

Runt just blinked. "Nope."

He then stuck out his tongue again, huffing and panting and staring at me with that idiotic grin of his. I sighed.

"Never mind." Making a light jump, I landed on Runt's back and settled myself in regally. "C'mon. Let's see what we can find today foodwise...Hey, maybe some human'll feel sorry for us and take us in." I looked down at his furry forehead, feeling an odd urge to poke it. But I managed to resist the feeling until it went away. "That OK with you?"

"Sure, sure, Rita, OK, _definitely_ OK," was the much-longer-than-needed response. I sighed again, but managed not to comment as Runt stuck his head around the corner and sauntered out of the alley.

* * *

_Oh boy oh boy, some'in good's gonna happen t'day. Good, yeah, DEFINITELY good. Some days, y'can tell that it's gonna be REAL bad, but today's gonna be good. DEFINITELY._

_I wonder what that joke meant, that joke Rita said. Wha' wazzit, umm, "Rita has", uhhh, "Rita's gonna", um, "Rita's left the building". Yeah, that was it, that was DEFINITELY it. I still dunno what it means, nope, definitely not. Does Rita know what it means? Maybe she doesn't. I think she does though. She wouldn't say it if she didn't, no, no, she DEFINITELY wouldn't'a' said it._

_Gee, Rita sure is a good dog. DEFINITELY a good dog. She's real smart. And she sings real nice too. Definitely, DEFINITELY nicer than most dogs sing. Sometimes I think she sings when I'm not around, yeah, definitely sometimes when I'm not around, but she's a good dog. DEFINITELY._

* * *

"Rita?"

I cocked my head, opening my eyes a little wider. I'd been nodding off before. "Yeah, Runt?"

And out flopped the tongue again. I wondered if Runt had a couple of screws loose in his jaw. "C'n you sing fer me, Rita?" he asked, panting again. The request bewildered me.

"What?" And, just think, I came up with that response _all by myself_.

"Sing. C'n you sing fer me?"

Something inside my stomach was flopping like the dead fish I _wished_ I'd had for dinner. "Um, eh, Runt, eh, I dunno," I replied, feeling just a little flustered. Why, though? Where was the rhythm? "It's, well, it's kinda _early_, an'..."

"Oh." The tongue retreated back into his cavernous mouth like a funeral procession and Runt's head dropped, his nose practically grazing the pavement. His tail stopped wagging, and even his steps became slow and dragging. I gulped nervously, somehow sweating—how does a cat _sweat?_—and hesitantly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ehh, Runt? You...OK?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, Rita, definitely fine," he answered flatly, his ears lowered as well, and I felt a guilty start. "Definitely, _definitely_ fine. Yeah. You don't have ta' worry about me, 'cus I'm fine. Definitely."

My muscles tightened. Runt was way too straightforward—someday he'd end up really getting to someone. But, well, he was a _dog_. What could ya do?

I sighed, straightened up, took in a deep breath and, for once, went against the timing.

"_Hey, boy, have you got a secret?_

_A secret so loud,_

_A secret so soft, a secret so proud!_

_I got a secret, oh, kiddo, I do_

_And I really really really wanna share it wit' yoooooou..."_

My eyes widened and I nearly clamped my paws over my mouth. What was I _singing?_ The words were tumbling out one after the other, and, sure, it was a rollicking, catchy tune, but—but—

"_You ever had somethin' you knew you should tell_

_Like a balloon inside that's makin' you swell?_

_But never, oh neeeeever, the time was not right_

_But right now I'll let my secret out of my sight!"_

Runt had stopped fully, his head turned as far towards me as possible and a silly grin stretched all across his mug as he listened. I was paralyzed. If this kept on going, I was going to tell him that I was really a cat. But I _couldn't_. This wasn't the right _time_. But already the song had taken over me, and I saw from a high vantage point as a small, gray me-cat hopped off of Runt's back and twirled on the sidewalk by him. I felt from a long distance that my mouth was open, and though I vaguely felt the words spilling out, I had no control over them.

"_But I'm TELLIN' you now_

_There's no need to fear_

_I said I'm TELLIN' you now_

_I'm confessin' to you right here..."_

Far off, Rita the Cat was mussing Runt's headfur, cackling theatrically as the dog's tail whipped from side to side at impossible speeds. Practically in another dimension, Rita the Cat was belting out a song, dancing around theatrically, about to tell Runt that she was a cat, and all I could do was watch as from an impossible distance I felt my mouth reaching the final verse.

"_Do you know, little Runt,_

_Oh no, you don't yet—_

_Do you know, outcast Runt,_

_You and I ain't the same pet?_

_Runt, Runt, Runt Runt Runt,_

_Pretty soon you'll know where it's at._

_I'm afraid it's obvious, I mean to everyone else_

_Pally, I ain't a dog, I'm a c—"_

I choked. At last my muscle control returned, and I started to choke. "A c—" I coughed, trying to keep from singing the rest. "A c—c—c—A ca—"

Against all odds, at that exact moment a clang reverberated towards us from an unknown location. The shock shoved me back into control of my voice, and I quickly took advantage of it. "What was that?" I squeaked, my throat feeling constricted. _ImadeitImadeitIdidn'ttellhim..._

Just as I was thanking my lucky stars, though, I noticed that Runt was gone, probably having bolted off after the source of the sound. I wasn't sure when he'd disappeared, or even how long it had been since I'd started singing. So, since I couldn't count on the timing, I went with the rhythm and dashed off in a random direction.

I momentarily wished I was a dog. Then I could track him with my nose, find him before he got into trouble. Emphasis on the last five words.

I ran like heck.


	3. Angel of Music

Angel of Music

I was still partially in shock, so I can't remember exactly how I ended up on that road, flanked on one side by apartment complexes and the other by two-bit storefronts. But I _do_ remember running, running faster than ever before along the dotted yellow line in the middle of the street. I glanced around wildly, hoping against hope for a glimpse of Runt, trying to find the mutt before a dogcatcher did—or _worse_ than a dogcatcher. Whatever had made that noise...

"Ruuuuuuunt!" I called frantically, my padded feet pounding against the pavement. "Runt, where are you? Ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuunt!"

Suddenly I felt a pinprick of inexplicable warmth narrowing between my shoulderblades, and I whirled around to see the twin headlights of a car speeding towards me. I yelped, springing out of the way just in time. But instead of leaping to the sidewalk like a _rational_ creature would, I landed in the opposite lane, with _another_ car coming at me. I scurried to my left, dodging that car, then had to leap to the right to avoid another one. I was panting wildly. _Geez, Rita, where's your timing? Lose the rhythm and timing and you're gonna get screwed. You saw that when you started singing and ALMOST TOLD HIM YOU WERE A CAT!_

Taking in a deep, terrified breath, I tried to recompose myself. When my heart had slowed to its normal _lub-dub_, I calmly trotted off the street and to the sidewalk by a brick-walled apartment building, expertly avoiding the cars with ease. You had to get used to the beat humans lived by, a faster and more unpredictably rhythm than most other creatures. I let out a deep breath, plopping myself on the ground by the mouth of a back alley. _OK. Runt couldn't'a' gone far. Now where might—_

There was another _crash_, identical to the one I'd heard before, and a streak of pink and yellow zoomed over my head. As I stared at it in surprise, it momentarily solidified into a tiny, feathered creature razzing rudely at something behind it, then it flitted away to a spot just a few inches to the left of where it had been before. _A bird_. It was ascending and descending so rapidly in midair that my cat instincts kicked in, and I began to memorize the rhythm of its movements. There's a rhythm to _everything_ if you look hard enough. And sure enough, I found it.

My tail was twitching and I was set to pounce when suddenly there was a yowl, then a mangy blue cat only a little smaller than me barreled out of the alley. He bowled me over, sending me sprawling to the ground as he used my spine for leverage to leap into the air, clawing frantically at the vibrant canary. I dizzily shook my head, trying to get my bearings back, then as the other cat jumped into the air again, I yelled, "Hey, _watch_ where you're _goin'_, junior!"

The only sign that he heard me was that he momentarily paused. Then, instead of replying in English like most cats would, he meowed again and just went back to jumping. I remembered enough of Felid to know that he'd just told me to lay off his prey, but, seeing as I hadn't used the language for a while, I had to take a moment to translate it. Then my spine started arching, my fur puffed up and I hissed loudly, making the other cat miaul. "Now listen here, shrimpo—" I started threateningly, but was cut off as a storm of barking suddenly bounded towards me.

"IT'S A CAT! _DEFINITELY_ A CAT!!" Runt cried between woofs, snarling and snapping at the blue-furred feline. The pink canary watched smugly from far above, flapping frantically to stay airborne before twittering calmly away. I was a bit shaken, having at first thought that Runt meant _me_, and was only really brought back to my senses when the non-English-speaking cat zoomed off with another yowl. Runt emitted a throaty dog sound, then his head swiveled around to see me and he snapped back into that vacuous grin. "Hiya, Rita! Where've you been?"

I blinked my wide green eyes, trying to compose myself a little. "How...how did you know that was a cat?" I asked hesitantly, my tail twitching anxiously. He'd never been able to tell cats and dogs apart before...What if this led to—

Runt cocked his head, dribbling a little after the excess testosterone needed to drive off the blue cat, then yipped happily. "Oh, that's _easy_, DEFINITELY," he panted. "Cats _meow_. Yeah, yeah, _definitely_ meow."

I practically sighed with relief. Well, that explained _something_, at least. From the get-go I'd used English with him, _never_ Felid. That's why when we first met in the pound, before I actually _saw_ him, I'd thought he was a cat—more cats picked up human language than dogs, since (besides the question of brainpower) a cat sometimes had to be self-sufficient.

How had Runt learned English, then?

"Runt—" I began, but then the big lug suddenly bounded forwards, lowering his head as he came so that, using his nose, he flipped me onto his back. I let out a strangled yelp, grabbing hold of his floppy ears only through a survival instinct as he continued his vaulting gallop down the street. I was too concerned with keeping a firm grip on him to demand an explanation, so it wasn't until Runt panted excitedly that I got an answer.

"Gee, running is _fun_, Rita, yeah, definitely fun."

I let out a groan, a long, low, strangled sound that got lost in the slipstream. "Greeeeat." Here I was, hanging on for dear life, and this guy had started his mad dash because he thought it was _fun_.

The big dog continued his lolloping gait for a while, then turned his head back to pant at me again. "You know, Rita," he said, his tongue trailing away in the wind, "I was real worried when I didn't see ya fer a while, yeah, _definitely_ worried. Yeah, yeah, definitely. But you're OK now."

My small frame was still bouncing up and down in midair, my face almost rippling from G-force, so I couldn't do much except keep my stranglehold on his ears and wonder _Huh?_

Of COURSE I wasn't "OK". If the description I just gave was any indication, I "DEFINITELY" wasn't OK.

But...he'd been _worried_ about me.

I could take care of myself better than _he_ could. I had been out there running around trying to find _him_. He was the one who scrambled _first_, rushing off to find out what that sound was, the moron.

I hadn't followed him immediately, though, which is what I usually did. Either that or I'd happen to still be on his back when he bounded away, or I'd be able to quickly catch hold of one of his ears.

But I was still able to take care of myself. If Runt didn't have me around, he'd have been mincemeat before now.

_Sometimes, though, _he_ saves _you.

My stomach was churning, and some of it might not have been from Runt's speed. My head seemed jumbled, like a Scrabble box when the letter bag's busted open. That's how it felt, like there were a bunch of letters scattered across my brain that, if I thought hard enough, might turn out to be words. But what words, I had no idea.

_Cat?_

_Dog?_

Something else entirely?

* * *

_Gee, I'm glad Rita's OK. Definitely glad. Definitely. Definitely definitely definitely._

_What was she singin' about before? She kinda stopped..._

_Rita wasn't barkin' at that cat. Definitely, DEFINITELY wasn't barking. Wonder why. She shoulda barked. Then that cat woulda gone away quick. Rita's a good dog. Definitely a good dog._

_Maybe she doesn't like chasin' cats. Maybe she's afraid of cats._

_But that's OK, definitely DEFINITELY OK. Cats c'n be scary, DEFINITELY. If they really wanna. I don't like 'em, nope. Cats is bad._

Unbidden, an image of a big yet dainty, dirty-white, furry creature with piercing green eyes padding softly down a snowy street...

* * *

After a while Runt had slowed down, just walking normally again. Still no real explanation for the mad dash from before, but I'd been able to smooth down my ruffled fur and settle myself comfortably in the crook of his spine, so I kinda just let it go. Still, a confession was gnawing at my guilty conscience. Although the timing had been off before, the rhythm might've repaired itself by now, so I decided to give it another try. Reaching out with a paw, I lightly rapped on Runt's skull.

"Hey...Runt...?"

The big dog jumped in surprise, his legs flying in every different direction as I let out an involuntary yowl, clutching his long ears again. When Runt had settled down again, though, he scratched his neck with a forepaw. "Gee, I'm sorry, Rita," he apologized, cocking his head to the side in order to reach the spot that itched. "I was thinkin'."

_This_ was a revolutionary new concept, and, needless to say, I was intrigued. "'Bout what?"

Runt was silent for a moment longer as he resumed padding down the sidewalk, then suddenly he remarked, "I hate cats."

I froze, all the bones in my body stiffening. He didn't even notice, though, just kept on walking and yammering on with _real_ tact.

"I hate 'em. Dogs and cats is natcheral enemies, yeah, _definitely_ natcheral enemies. They're real bad, all not-likin' humans an' stuff an' goin' off on their own. An' they all think dogs is stupid, yeah, _definitely_."

It felt like everything in my body had shut down and just didn't wanna go on anymore. "R—R—Runt..." I croaked past a lump in my throat.

"When I sees a cat I wanna bark, yeah, _definitely_ bark," he continued, growling a little for demonstrational purposes. "It scares 'em off real nice, _definitely_ real nice. Cats is mean. That's why I'm glad you're not a cat, huh, Rita?"

For a second I didn't know that he had asked me a question, but then I registered what he'd just said.

I didn't answer.

The big lug must've taken my silence for a yes, since he stopped the conversation right there. Then, after a moment, he flipped his head back again to look at me. "What did'ja wanna' say, Rita?"

I didn't really know what to do now. Tell him that I'm a cat?

_What, and have him either thinking you're kidding or for him to turn on you, barking until you run away?_

Ignore the remarks?

_And feel the guilt of turning against your entire kind?_

Defend the cat species without admitting that I'm one of them?

_Making him confused and suspicious, causing a confession anyways?_

What could I do? The beat was all confused, tripping over itself and entangling itself with the timing, and somewhere in the middle my own heart was drowning out any other sounds.

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

What should I do?

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

What should I say?

_Lub-dub. Lub-dub._

Why did my heart have to sound so much like the tempo of a song?

Without even thinking about it, without even meaning to, words came out of my throat. They were quiet, almost mumbling, wanting to be out while making the least amount of sound possible.

"_What should I say?_

_What should I do?_

_C'mon, Rita, hey,_

_What's the matter wit' you?_

_Ya shouldn't be afraid_

_When you want to speak your mind_

_The chances you COULD've made,_

_But the past is all behind..."_

I closed my eyes, vaguely aware of Runt stopping in his tracks. Though my voice was getting slightly louder, it had begun to quaver, and I felt like I might start crying at any moment.

"_You've got ta' speak_

_If you want to be heard_

_Ya won't come OFF as weak_

_On the wings of a bird_

_You'll FLY away, far into the truth_

_And that's all that I want there to be..."_

I have no recollection of jumping off of Runt's back, even now. All I know is that when I'd opened my eyes again, I was staring at his face, standing on two legs with my back paws on the ground. I was seeing through a mist again, like every time when I sing, but I still felt keenly every motion I made, even if I didn't seem to be controlling it myself. I felt myself reaching out with my paws and stroking Runt's furry face, continuing to sing.

"_I'll lean upon your back_

_And be the wind upon your face_

_There will be nothing we two lack_

_If we go on with our set pace_

_I want you to see the truth_

_If you ever want to know me_

_And if you can find out the truth_

_Will you please, oh will you show me_

_How it feels for you_

_It will change all that's around us_

_Just give me a clue_

_And you'll find...which is...most precious..._

_To..._

_Me..."_

And, with that, I leaned forwards. Just a little.

And then—

And then—

My eyes flew open and I gasped, tearing myself away. I shoved Runt to the side, using more strength than I had known I had, and streaked off in the opposite direction. My breath was coming at irregular intervals, and my heart was pounding in my ears. There was no gentle _lub-dub_ this time. It was louder, MUCH louder.

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom._

Breathe in, breathe out. C'mon, girl, you can remember to do that, can't you?

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom._

Keep breathing. It's not that hard. Remember to breathe, Rita.

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom._

You have to remember to breathe.

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom._

I'd just kissed Runt. Face. Mouth. I'd kissed him, just like that.

My heart pounding, lungs heaving in and out, I just kept on running, ducking and weaving between cars, outpacing them all.

_Boom-boom. Boom-boom._


	4. What Have I Done?

What Have I Done?

I kept running until my chest felt like it was going to pop, and even then I didn't fully stop until I collapsed from exhaustion, panting and heaving like I was about to die. I sat there on a sidewalk for about two seconds until I heard a barking sound, at which I dove yowling behind a trash can by a French restaurant. Peeking cautiously around the side of the metallic can, though, I spotted not Runt, but a big Doberman out for a walk with its human, practically dragging the guy along the sidewalk. I sighed, slumping over in the confined space between the trash can and the outer wall of the restaurant.

I had kissed Runt.

My head was churning again, but this time I had a better idea of _why_. I was a cat. I had just kissed a cat-hating dog right after he _stated_ that he despised cats. I didn't even know why I'd done it.

Had I always been this crazy?

What would make me kiss Runt?

It was the song. It had to be the song. I was just so caught up in the dramatic fervor that I—that I—

Oh god, I couldn't even think about it. Somewhere in the past day, I had lost my sense of rhythm and timing. Even my heart was beating erratically, not even keeping a solid tempo.

_Why did I do that?_

Every time I closed my eyes I saw his face, so I kept them open, even to the point where my eyes started to burn. That stupid grin, the big floppy ears, that—

I realized that I'd closed my eyes again, and forced them back open.

What was wrong with me?

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't sort out what I was feeling. Sometimes my pulse sped up, other times my heart stopped altogether. I felt queasy, like I was about to be sick, then I felt as if I might just float away.

Big, yet small. Strong, yet weak. Incomplete, yet finished.

Happy, yet...yet...

I didn't know what else I felt. I didn't know if I even _did_ feel happy. I was so mixed-up that I might as well have been a foreign film with the subtitles off.

With an odd, whimpering moan, I dropped my face into my paws and just sat there, shaking a little, wondering what had happened to make me this way.

* * *

_Oh gee, oh gee, oh gee oh gee..._

_Gosh, where did Rita go? I'm real worried, definitely real worried..._

_Oh gee oh gee oh gee..._

_That was definitely different, yeah, definitely..._

_Oh gee..._

_Gotta find Rita, definitely gotta find Rita. Don't want Rita to get lost, definitely definitely not. Yeah, yeah, gotta find Rita, definitely gotta go look fer her._

_Oh gee, oh gee..._

_Rita never did that before, no, definitely never. Definitely definitely definitely definitely._

_Gotta find Rita. Don't want Rita to get lost. Definitely not. Gettin' lost isn't fun, definitely not fun._

_Never want Rita to get lost, never never._

_I didn't like bein' lost, nope, definitely not. All cold. No mama. Found _her_ though, an' she helped me, yeah, definitely definitely helped me. I miss her. Haven't seen _her_ fer a long time, though, definitely not fer a long time._

_Met Rita after, though. Rita helps too. Rita's a good dog, real good dog. Like _her_._

_...?_

_Dunno, nope, definitely have no idea, nope, nope, definitely not._

_Gotta go find Rita, gotta go find her, definitely definitely have to find Rita..._

* * *

I didn't move from behind the garbage can for a long time, instead just huddling there, alternately trying to sort out the tangled mess in my head and trying to forget about it entirely. I was Rita. Street-smart. Independent. So how come I couldn't even think straight without Runt there?

I wouldn't be able to face Runt, though. Not for a while. Not after _that_.

Oh, god, I was so stupid. Why had I kissed him? I couldn't tell him that I was a cat, so instead I planted a smacker on him? What kind of messed-up logic is that?

At another time, it might've been funny. But not now. Too much stuff was happening too fast. And I still hadn't told him that I was a cat.

Why did I suddenly get nervous when I thought about telling him?

Because he'd turn on me, I decided. He'd chase me away, barking his tail off 'till I was gone. Runt was a failsafe for me; there were some things he could do that I couldn't, like frightening away unscrupulous humans or charming them into submission, sometimes even with fighting things off. I was small and subtle, but Runt could be the big, blunt force that creatures immediately recognized, for whatever reasons. He was handy to have around.

_Yes, that was all,_ I reassured myself.

Then why did I feel like the proverbial cat in a blender?

Suddenly, I heard a soft mewl from somewhere beyond the garbage can, and my ears stiffened. The voice seemed familiar, but—it couldn't have—

I sprang to my feet, leaping fluidly on top of the can and looking out, my tail twitching in anticipation. Padding about outside the door to the French restaurant was a prim black cat, sleek and well-kempt, longer and thinner than me. Her tail fluffed out like a massive incarnation of a squirrel's, as neat and orderly as the thin whiskers peeping out of her white muzzle. My eyes widened and my mouth opened in surprise and joy; it was Penelope Pussycat, my kittenhood pal. We'd been separated before either of us was fully grown, each adopted by a different human, and I hadn't seen her since, but it _had_ to be the same cat. No one else had a tail as beautiful as that.

"Penelope!" I cried, heedless of any nearby humans, and jumped off the trash can. The lid clanged to the ground behind me, but I was so ecstatic that I really didn't care, practically tripping over my own paws as I rushed over to my old friend. Penelope was looking at me curiously, cocking her head like she vaguely recalled my face but couldn't place it. "Penelope, it's me! Rita! You remember, don't'cha?"

Penelope mewed confusedly in Felid, swishing her tail. "_I can't understand you,_" she was saying, her voice containing a hint of the feline equivalent of a French accent. "_What language are you speaking?_"

She'd obviously had a very comfy life after her alley birth, since she hadn't felt the need to learn English. I switched to Felid for her sake, the language feeling odd after the long time since I'd last used it. "_It's Rita, Penelope! Remember me? We were kittens together!_"

Penelope blinked again, then she drew in a gasp as her fur stood on end. "_RITA!_" she miauled, springing a tight hug around my waist and rubbing her cheek against mine, purring. "_I haven't seen you in years! My master brought me to Paris after he adopted me, and we only came back last month!_" She pulled back, and both of us smiled excitedly. "_I never thought to see YOU here!_"

I laughed dryly, once again familiar with the meowing sounds that characterized Felid. "_I haven't had any owners for long,_" I informed her, batting playfully at one of her ears. It's a cat thing. "_I've been all over the WORLD lookin' fer one! The odds of us meeting again musta' been HUGE!_"

"_All over the world?_" Penelope repeated incredulously, her eyes wide as her tail swished again. "_That seems a lot for one cat! But,_" she chuckled,"_you always WERE ambitious._"

Though her words were meant to be taken lightly, something inside my stomach tightened as she said it, and I turned my face downwards. "_Well, I...haven't actually BEEN alone._" Penelope looked up at me with a questioning look in her eyes, and I went on, my windpipe tightening with every word. Why, though? "_There's this...guy named Runt who's been traveling with me. We're both trying to find homes, but..._"

I trailed off, but Penelope seemed to think she'd picked up on something. "_Rita, you don't need a HUMAN to have a home. If Runt is a good cat, and you like him, then—_"

"_Penelope,_" I interrupted, raising my gaze to meet hers, "_Runt is a DOG._"

She was silent for a moment more, her lower lip curling slightly as she pondered this, then she looked up with a new fervor. "_Rita, that doesn't matter. If you love him, then—_"

"I **don't!**" This time I forgot Felid entirely, reverting to English in my burst of emotion. But even as I said it, a new wave of feeling washed over me. I didn't know what it was, didn't want to know, just wanted it to go away...

Even without my translation, though, Penelope seemed to understand what I meant. "_Rita,_" she mewled insistently, "_there's nothing wrong with being in love with someone outside your own species. If you're in love, nothing else matters._"

"_But we're not in love!_" I protested again, but in Felid this time. My ears lowered a little, though. "_And...he thinks I'm a dog too._"

To my surprise, Penelope laughed. Not a loud, raucous laugh, but a petite cat giggle like the sounds of a plucked violin string. "_In France, I was always being chased by a skunk who thought I was one of his species because of the white paint stripe down my back! And while his love was rather...forward...I think he'd do the same even if he KNEW I was a cat._" She glanced at me pointedly, apparently thinking that there was some message in there that I should've absorbed. "_Now. How do you feel about this Runt?_"

"_I...I don't love him!_"

"_Do you hate him?_"

"NO!"

Even I was surprised at my heated protest, once again uttered in English. "_I...I..._" I faltered, then shut my eyes so far closed that it hurt. "_I don't hate him. I...don't think I COULD. Sure, calling him dumb as a rock would be insulting to rocks, but...he's straightforward. You know how he feels about everything, all the time. Too...well, too DUMB to lie, I guess, but also...kinda...too PURE. Too innocent and naïve. I...well, I..._"

"CAT!!"

My eyes snapped open, and I lurched to the right just as a huge mass of dog shot straight past, barking madly. "PENELOPE!" I called, but the black cat had already gone, the only trace left of her being a white puff of smoke. I whirled around, and my eyes blazed as I saw the big, stupid dog still yapping at thin air, his long black ears whipping about wildly with the motions of his head. Any previous embarrassment was forgotten as I stood there, firmly planted on all fours, and spoke with the most power and volume I'd ever had in my voice.

"**RUNT!**"

Even the happy-go-lucky mutt was stunned to hear me that way, and as he turned he saw my back, arched as high as it could go, my fur bristling, my sharp teeth showing and my eyes glaring daggers at him. "R...Rita?" he gulped, stumbling backwards on his massive paws. "Rita, I...I chased the cat away..."

"THAT CAT WAS MY _FRIEND_!" I shouted, making him wince. My voice was hoarse, from the recent change from Felid, the volume at which I was shouting, and something else I didn't know. "I HADN'T SEEN HER IN _YEARS!_ YOU HEAR ME, RUNT? **YEARS!** AND I DIDN'T _REALLY_ WANT TO HAVE A BIG DUMB **DOG** COME BARKING IN AND CHASE HER _AWAY!!_"

Runt cowered, his entire head and forebody pressed against the ground, his forepaws over his head, mussing his red russet headfur. "But...but Rita, tha...that was a _cat_," he repeated weakly. "I...heard it _meowing_."

Suddenly, I just couldn't take it anymore. Everything that had happened since this morning just exploded out of me, and I bounded over to Runt quicker than lightning, extended my claws and slashed him across his big goofy nose. As he yelped and covered it, I leaned right in towards his face and hissed, "Listen, buster, I wanna make somethin' _clear_ ta you. That meowin' you heard _wasn't that other cat_. IT WAS ME."

Runt gaped up at me in astonishment, his nose momentarily forgotten. "I'M A CAT, RUNT!" I shouted. "A _CAT!_ WANNA HEAR ME MEOW? I CAN MEOW! IT'S MY FIRST LANGUAGE! READ MY LIPS, _**I AM A CAT!!**_"

I could feel my cheeks getting damp. I was crying. Why was I crying?

Hissing again, I took another slash across Runt's nose and scampered past him, disappearing into a back alley and out of sight. The sound of my paws contained no rhythm, as hard as I strained to catch some.


	5. Two Lost Souls

Two Lost Souls

_Rita a cat? Rita's a cat? A cat is Rita?_

_Huh huh huh?_

_Rita can't be a cat, no, definitely not, definitely definitely not. Don't like cats. Like Rita. Cats bad. Rita good._

_Rita's a cat? A cat, a cat, a cat?_

_Definitely can't be, nope, definitely can't. Don't like cats, never liked cats, never never never._

_...Never...?_

"Berna...Bernadettie?"

* * *

After abandoning Runt, I just kind of slunk around more back alleys for a while, shrinking into the shadows whenever I heard someone coming. I didn't want to see him again. Ever.

And still I felt like I was going to throw up.

I managed to avoid heaving for...I don't know how long it was. I didn't know what time it was, how long it had been since I'd talked with Penelope, not even whether it was morning or afternoon or night.

The words of others we'd met during our travels came mocking into my mind. _"They're perfectly mismatched, they're Rita and Runt."_ Mismatched was right. How stupid I'd been to think it could've lasted. I was a cat, he was a dog. He would've found out someday anyways. It was just better that it had happened sooner, before I got hurt.

_Yeah. Sure._

Somehow or other, I ended up sitting by myself on top of a oven-sized cardboard box somewhere in the dingiest alley I'd ever seen, batting disinterestedly at my tail. By then, my entire head was numb, and I'd given up even trying to think. Just tried to see if I could get my tail to swing in time again. None of me was coordinated.

"_Th_say, _th_si_th_ster," a voice purred, and I looked up sharply. Leaning on the wall by me on his hind legs was a big black cat, tall and thin with white-tipped paws, tail and muzzle, a triangular red nose jutting out of it like a doorknob. He was fiddling with his whiskers in an attempt at nonchalance, peering at me out of the corner of his eye. "You look like a ni_th_ce little pu_th_ssy. What _th_say we ditch this_th_ taco _th_stand and—"

"Blow off, 'bu_th_ster'," I snapped, flicking my tail at him like a whip as I stood up. He was more than twice my size, but my annoyance was enough to make me seem more imposing as I jabbed a forefinger into his chest. "I'm _not interested_."

The other cat laughed. A _superior_ laugh, as though he found the situation, from his vantage point, amusing. "Hey, li_th_sten to thi_th_s, fella_th_s!" he called, and suddenly I realized that the alley was swarming with cats. I just hadn't noticed. "She'_th_s not INTERE_TH_STED!"

That same superior laugh reverberated across the alley as more and more cats crept into view. Among too many to count, there was a gray tomcat with yellow-and-green eyes, a mangy orange puss with his tongue hanging out of his open mouth, a fat black one with an off-white maw and paws—and they were all _males_. Every single one of them.

Although I felt my heart pumping with fear, I fell back to all fours and arched my back, hissing fiercely. "Now you fellas just all back away," I warned, my voice quivering only the slightest, "an' I won't haveta' rip your faces off."

There was another chuckle from the lisping cat next to me, and he casually slid out his claws. I stiffened, though still holding my ground, as he began to speak again. "Gee, that's_th_ ju_th_st too bad," he remarked, and all the cats began slowly to advance.

* * *

An image. A picture of a small tan puppy, darker splotches on his back, red-orange headfur and his paws tipped with white, trawling through a blanket of snow, struggling to keep upright. "_Mama?_" he would yip occasionally, using the instinctive dog language of Canid. "_Mama? Mama?_"

The street was cold, the buildings tall and unresponsive. Very few humans were out, as it was the dead of winter, and the ones that were there took no notice of the tiny pup, even when he looked straight up at them. "_Mama? Mama?_"

The puppy stumbled over his own paws, landing flat on his face in the huge snowdrift. His hind legs kicked frantically, but the snow was so deep and he was so small. "_Mama?_" he yelped again, trying to stick his face above the line of snow. "_Mama! Where Mama? Mamaaaaa!_"

Suddenly a tug on the nape of the puppy's neck, and he was dragged up and out of the drift. He swung his head around, and his face met with two enormous green eyes staring at him. "_Mama?_"

The pup dropped to the ground roughly, landing with a _whumf_ back in the snow. It was a more shallow patch this time, though, and he only had to shake himself a little before he could stare back up at the unfamiliar creature. It was obviously an animal of some sort, but it was hard to tell what kind, since its fur was only a little grayer than the snow, and the puppy's attention was captivated by the bright green eyes.

"You're a _dog!_" the creature gasped in a harsh, feminine voice, brilliant eyes narrowing as she lowered her head to the pup. He could see now that her two ears were triangular, and one of them was slightly notched. However, this meant as little to him as the strange words tumbling out of her mouth.

"_Mama?_" repeated the puppy, his eyes growing wider and more pleading. "_Mama?_"

The older cat paused, her long, fluffy tail stiffening in midair. In their basest roots, the languages of Felid and Canid were similar, much like Spanish and French in the human world. Though her best language (and the one she was currently using) was English, she knew that the tiny little creature was looking for its mother.

"I'm—I'm not your mama, kid," she whispered, lowering her head to the pup's level. The little dog cocked his head to the side, eyes widening even further in incomprehension and his stumpy little tail raising. The cat groaned. "Oh, geez, don't give me that big-eyed little puppy look, I can't _stand_ the puppy look—" In a fluid motion, she turned on her heel and leapt smoothly onto the sidewalk, leaving the pup sitting in the middle of the street, gazing after her. The cat half-turned her head back, looking back at him, and, as she did so, the puppy trotted sedately after her. She held up a dirty-white paw. "Oh, no no no no _no_. I can't care for _you_. I'm a _stray_, wanderin' the streets. I can't worry about a dingy little _kid_. And...you're a _dog_."

So declaring, the cat bounded off, landing lightly on top of each snowdrift and avoiding sinking too far in. She was just about to turn the corner on the street when she heard a yelp from behind her, and, looking back again, she saw only the nose and forepaws of the pup sticking above the snow as he struggled to get through it after her. The cat deliberated a moment, then sighed, plodding back towards the little mutt. Gently easing her head down into the cold snow, she lightly grasped the back of his neck in her teeth again and lifted him out, dropping him on top of a more solid pile of snow. Blinking rapidly, the puppy spotted her face and yipped, sticking out his tongue happily as his stumpy little tail started wagging. The cat sighed again, looking down at the mutt.

"Geez, you're too tiny to survive on your own. You're just a little _runt_. Am I supposed to abandon a runt puppy in the dead of winter? I'd have the Humane Society on me!"

"_Mama!_" the pup yipped again, rearing onto his hind legs and batting playfully at the cat's nose. She pulled away, looking half-disgusted, but her eyes softened a little as she picked him up with a paw and placed him securely on her back.

"Let's get one thing straight, though, runt," she warned him, rolling her eyes to look in his direction. "I ain't your mama. I'm _Bernadette_. Capisce?"

The puppy blinked, rubbing his nose lightly with his paw. "_Mama_ Ber...Berna...deh..." he tried, then straightened up as if hiccuping. "BERNADETTIE!"

"Not _Bernadettie!_ BERNADETTE!" the cat yowled, but plodded off with the puppy on her back.

_Gotta find Rita gotta find Rita gotta find Rita..._


	6. To Life

To Life

I ran. For the umpteenth time that day, I _ran_, my fur streaking along behind me and my padded feet slamming the pavement like mallets. But still the miauls followed me, and I knew the entire time that they were right behind me. I was smaller than they were, and, in general terms, a little faster, but there was no way I could outpace that sheer number of cats. Scampering panickedly down the street, I threaded my way between the feet of hurrying humans and always hoping against hope that none of my pursuers would catch me. Did the humans think it odd that a swarm of tomcats were pursuing a little gray pussy down the street? I don't know. I didn't stick around to find out.

Any other day, I could outpace 'em. Any other day, I would've been able to know the exact right rhythm to run at so I could go the fastest while tiring the least. Any other day, I would've known the exact timing for ducking into an alley before they saw me.

Any other day, I would've had Runt with me.

I didn't even have time to think these thoughts as I ran. That's just me reflecting on it now. But at that very moment, running for my life—and possibly something even scarier to contemplate—all I could do was put my feet down on the pavement and lift them back up, avoiding city mailboxes, fire hydrants and any other obstacles in my path.

_Ohgodohgodohgodohgod_—

Spotting a possible exit route, I skittered to a halt in front of another blank alley and, my feet spinning even before I touched the ground, shot straight into it. The ever-louder yowls were still as close and getting closer, but I hadn't jumped into the alley to hide. Not quite, anyway. My heart still banging with fear, I leaped on top of a railing affixed to one of the nearby buildings, then from there jumped to a garbage can and clawed my way up a drainpipe to the building's roof. There I crouched, two stories above the ground, breathing as rapidly and as quietly as I could while attempting to huddle out of sight of my pursuers.

It was only a second later that they barreled into the alley I'd just come out of, sending up a din like none I'd ever heard before. Claws scrabbled against the pavement as a dozen, no, _two_ dozen cats screeched to a halt, fanning out and combing the area. I waited, afraid to move or breathe, ducking my head back over the crest of the roof if any of them even glanced up for a moment. It kept on that way for a minute or two, at which point the multitude of cat noises signified that none of them was very happy about losing me. At last, at _long_ last, the black-and-white cat who'd come to me first stood up on his hind legs and scratched his head bewilderedly. "_Th_sufferin' _th_succotash! _Th_she ju_th_st plain di_th_sappeared!"

Murmured, miauling sounds of annoyed consent, and the cats below grudgingly made as if to disperse from the alley and flow back into the city street. I sighed softly, my stiff ears relaxing, breathing freely again as they started to leave.

Up to that point, I think, I hadn't realized how much my lack of rhythm was going to cost me. And it was only after I took that slightest step forwards that the reality came crashing down on me, just as a corresponding crashing noise echoed against the alley walls below and made all the cats immediately turn around again.

Just the one step was all it took. Just the one step that happened to land in the _one_ place where, on the old-fashioned roof, there was a loose shingle. If I had stepped anywhere else, even just an inch to the left, the cats would have gone and I wouldn't have to worry. But the loss of my rhythm sent my foot there, which sent the shingle sliding down the angled roof and into the alleys below.

_KEE-RASH._

_Ohgodohgod_...

I didn't even wait for them to start after me again, just turned tail and slid down the other side of the roof, at the last minute springing onto the railing of a fire escape on the next building, considerably taller than the structure I'd just left. I almost didn't make it, and for an agonizing moment after reaching it I just clung to the rail, my eyes shut tight. But the sounds of pursuit were still there, and, looking back, I saw that the roof I'd only just vacated was already swarming with cats. With a small, uncharacteristic whimper, I clawed my way over the railing and onto the concrete landing, pounding my way up the metal stairs. I didn't trust myself to balance on the thin rails.

I just wished this nightmare would stop, leaping from step to step and going higher and higher with each floor I rounded. The other cats were still right behind me, and getting closer all the time. I'd been running all day, back and forth, all across this stinking city since the early hours, and the guys behind had probably just been lounging in some trash cans waiting for someone like me to show up. That was how, by the time I made it to the building's roof, all I could really do was sit and catch my breath.

And that's how _they_ found me—doubled over, panting, the luster gone out of my gray fur as I watched them with horrified eyes. The mangy orange cat snickered a little, then turned around to spit out a hairball. All of them were grinning widely as they padded forwards, their whiskers quivering, their own eyes giving off a look that I don't even wanna think about. I tried feebly to hiss, puff up my fur at them again, but all I got was some laughs from them and a coughing fit from me. One of them—the yellow-eyed gray one—stepped further forwards than the others, but I extended my claws and swiped at his face. It at least delayed his progress, and bought me enough time to scamper over towards the edge of the roof.

"Hold on there, _th_si_th_ster," the lisping cat laughed, striding forwards casually on two legs. I made a growling noise and moved closer to the edge, but it only made him chuckle even more. "You don't wanna _jump_, do ya?" His eyes flashed, and he grinned, an evil grin that seared into my retinas and left me frozen for a second afterwards. "Fa_th_ce it. There'_th_s nowhere left ta' run, _th_shorty."

I backed up against the concrete enclosure, leaning backwards just far enough that I could look down out of the corner of my eye. The height was dizzying, and I quickly had to look away. I was an acrophobe, so even five stories bothered me, but this apartment building must've had at least ten. But when I looked back at the line of tomcats, this view was just as bad as the last. I took in a breath and closed my eyes.

_It ain't so bad. Leastways, I got to see Penelope again. ...Runt probably hates me now anyway. If the cat thing weren't enough, I clawed him. Why's he have to be so dang straightforward? And I..._

My train of thought was abruptly cut off as the lisping cat made some sort of sick cooing noise. "Hey, _th_si_th_ster, ya might as_th_ well give in," he repeated, stepping forwards again. "It'_th_s thi_th_s or the jump."

Opening my eyes, I looked at him. I looked straight at him for maybe the first time since he'd shown up, staring at him square in the eyes. My lips curled into a dry smile, and my eyes hardened. I could see that it unnerved the other cats, and this just made me smile wider. "Ya know what?" I said. "I think I prefer the second choice."

And with that, I threw myself over the edge.

* * *

The little puppy lived with Bernadette from then on, every day learning more and more of the English language so the cat could communicate with him better. The first phrases he learned were "No", "Come back over here" and "Look, kid, my name's not Bernadettie!"

As can be gleaned, the puppy was an inquisitive creature, poking his nose into anything that he saw. This led to some hair-raising experiences, especially when they crossed paths with that snake trainer. After that incident, the little mutt would ask Bernadette for permission to look inside.

"Is it dangerous?"

"Nope," was the reply, or, more often, "Definitely."

"Yup, yup, definitely," the pup would mutter after being given a response like the latter, backing away from whatever he was about to poke. "Definitely dangerous. Definitely."

In lieu of a name to call him by, Bernadette addressed him as "runt", and it was used so often that the dog actually answered to it. Pretty soon, his name might as well have _been_ Runt, though after about six months he was already almost Bernadette's size. Before too long after that, it was _him_ who carried the cat around on his back instead of vice-versa.

Not that he ever found out that his beloved guardian was a feline. Aside from what Bernadette quickly realized was his distressing thickheadedness, Runt had become used to the idea that Bernadette was his mother. According to himself, he didn't remember a thing before that day in the snow, and—well, it was the classic Seussical story. Yes, Bernadette made him address her by name rather than "Mama"—although he still thought she was "Bernadettie"—and yes, she told him regularly that she was a cat and he was a dog—but he didn't quite believe her. Whenever she even said the word "cat", he would leap up and start barking, glancing wildly around for this mysterious cat. Not that Bernadette liked this, but it was an inborn dog instinct and she couldn't do much about it.

By the time Runt was fully grown, Bernadette had become old, even by cat reckoning. By this point, she could barely move on her own, instead forced to rely on Runt to carry her around _all_ the time. Though the big dog was clumsy, he was always careful when she was on his back—a characteristic that had persevered to the present day.

But there was one day in another winter that Runt woke up to find Bernadette missing. Alarmed, the big mutt jerked to his feet and snuffled about wildly, looking for his "mother's" trail. He found it, all right, a weak scent that led off into the dark and snow-blown distance. Though any pawprints had been covered up by fresh snowfall, Runt was so centered on her smell that he was able to track the old cat, dashing through huge snowdrifts and ducking out of the way of moving cars. At last he found that the trail led into an alley, and even there he thought he could see Bernadette's gray-white fur huddled just above the snow—but as he tried to bound forwards, a pair of cats blocked his path.

"Stop right there, _dog_," one snarled, a yellow-and-white-splattered pussy with a purple bow around her neck, using English as she extended her claws. Runt looked bewildered—well, more so than usual.

"But Bernadettie!" he woofed, trying to circumvent the cats. "Gotta go get ta' her, yeah, definitely!"

"That's a _cat_, you buffoon!" the other feline snapped at him. It was another female, an immense white Persian with glittering blue eyes. However, despite her bulk, she seemed to have the potential to be dangerous.

"CAT? _WHERE'S A CAT?!_" Spinning around wildly, Runt started barking in every plausible direction before turning confusedly back to the two cats. "I don't see any cat, no, definitely no cats." He craned his neck, looking worriedly at the huddled bundle of gray-white fur still visible in the alley. "What's Bernadettie doin'? She's not movin', yeah, _definitely_ not movin'."

The first cat arched her back, stretching her spine and glaring menacingly up into Runt's face. "She's _dead_, FOOL!" she cried, and even Runt could see the hint of a tear in the corner of her eye. "She's _dead!_ The old cat crawled in here and died this morning! _DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!_"

For a moment, Runt's face fell. Then his stubby tail began to wag again, tentatively. "So...when's she gonna get up?"

The yellow cat was weeping freely now, the tears streaming off the edges of her whiskers. "She's not _getting_ up! EVER AGAIN! _**DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT **_'DYING'_** MEANS?!**_"

Runt couldn't grasp what was going on. Eventually, though, the cats managed to chase him away, at which point he was picked up by the city dogcatcher and transferred to the pound. From there, a human man adopted him, and Runt lived with that man's family for a few months. After one too many chewed slippers, though, it was back to the pound, where he met Rita through the walls of their cages. She escaped, and brought him with her, and they'd been together ever since.

_Gotta run, find Rita, follow Rita's scent, gotta find Rita, definitely gotta run an' find her quick, gotta find Rita..._

* * *

Have you ever plummeted backwards off the roof of an apartment building? Even though, y'know, the force of gravity is hurling you downwards at tremendous speeds and it's only a few seconds before you're going to splatter on the pavement, it's a wonderful sort of time to think.

I reflected on the expressions that must've been passing across those cats' faces. _Not today, pals!_ I wanted to yell up at them, but aside from lack of time, my lungs were currently compressed by the air pressure shoving me closer and closer to the sidewalk. Not today...and probably not any other day. What had I been thinking?

For some design or purpose, Runt's face popped up in my mind. I winced—internally, anyways; my face was too rippled from G-force for me to shape it to any emotion. Well, Runt'd be happier without me. Heh. No more lying little cats bugging him, dragging him down, clawing at his face...

It was probably the force of the fall, but something in my chest started hurting. And it didn't stop. _Well_, I thought acridly, thinking of the ground speeding up to meet me, _at least he'll never haveta' save me from a life-or-death situation again_.

"Save..._me?_"

My eyes expanded wider as memories overloaded themselves in my mind. That big mutt—_I _had saved _his_ life at least as many times as he'd saved mine! The idiot wouldn't be able to keep himself out of trouble if I hit that ground! Stupid moron, he'd be dead before the end of the day without me!

Without even pausing to think about it, I twisted around in midair, angling my feet downwards just before I hit.

_Whumf._

"Gee, whaddaya know," I muttered, looking up from the cushion of a gigantic couch, "they're movin' furniture."

Shakily, I eased myself to my feet and climbed down from the couch, which had conveniently been sitting right there on the sidewalk in front of a human van. It was a lucky thing that I'd done the old "cats-always-land-on-their-feet" trick, though, or my spine would've bounced off the couch and sent me sprawling on the pavement.

I sighed, letting my bones settle back into place before beginning to trot off. I was a little worried about the cats still up on the roof, but—

I stopped dead in my tracks as I looked up, and all fear of the raucous tomcats left me. If they didn't already think I was dead, they still wouldn't dare come after me. Not with this in their way.

But I myself still felt as if I was plummeting from the top of the building.


	7. Epilogue: Any Dream Will Do

Epilogue: Any Dream Will Do

"R-Runt," I gasped, stopping dead in my tracks. "H-how did you find me?"

It was the big mutt, standing there on all fours with his tongue hanging out of his mouth, as always. He snuffled a little, and I realized with a jolt of guilt that he still had thin, sharp lines crisscrossing his nose. "Gee, you're real easy ta' smell, Rita, yeah, definitely, _definitely_ a familiar smell."

"I—I—" This was all going too fast. "But—_why? _Why'd you come after me?" Runt paused, cocking his head confusedly, and I lowered my face. "I'm—I'm a _cat_, Runt."

"Yeah, I know." My head snapped back up, and Runt leaned his head down towards mine, still wearing that blank expression and looking blissfully stupid. "But—but it's OK that you're a cat, definitely, _definitely_ OK!" He rubbed his cheek happily against mine, then straightened back up. "'Cus, well, it don't matter much, nope, don't matter! 'Cus...'cus you're Rita!"

Somehow, I don't know, I think I knew what he meant. That mutt was too straightforward, telling his feelings to anyone who asked, no morals to confuse the matter. And that was something I—that I—

Reaching up, I ruffled his headfur, cracking a small, weary, but genuinely happy smile. "Thanks, Runt," I murmured, then looked up. The sky near the horizon was red, and already a blanket of deep blue was drawing over the city above us. "Geez, when'd it get dark?" I griped, then turned even as Runt settled himself down on his haunches. I made a short leap over to him, placed one paw on his back—and froze, staring down at one of my back paws. I'd made that leap at exactly the right distance to clamber onto Runt's back. Not one inch too short, not one inch too long. My rhythm was back.

"And it's about time," I mumbled, hefting myself on top of Runt's mountain of a spine. He straightened up again, stubby tail whipping along at tremendous speeds.

"Gee, Rita," he asked, tilting his head back to look up at me, "where're we goin' this time?"

"Eeeeeeeeeh...surprise me."

The big dog started walking off, then stopped with a jolt. It was all I could do to keep from flying over the top of his head, but for once I didn't mind. "Oh yeah," Runt panted, as if continuing some lost thought. "Rita, my mama was a cat. Well, I thought she was my mama, definitely _thought_. I just remembered when I was comin' after ya."

"Really?" I asked, interested. My tail twitched slightly. "What was her name?"

"Bernadettie!" the big guy woofed, his ears raising. "Definitely, _definitely_ Bernadettie."

I paused. "My mother's name was Bernadette," I murmured, then shook my head. "Aaah, probably a coincidence. C'mon, Runt, let's go."

As Runt started sedately trotting away down the street, I felt the timing at last catch up to me. It had been a rollicking, confusing day, but, all in all, I don't think it could've worked out much better. Not even if it had been choreographed by Irving Berlin.

"_I always said, yes ALWAYS said,_

_Someday we'd find a home_

_A human patting us on the head,_

_For YOU a big white bone."_

In true Western style, we trotted off into the sunset. So I didn't know what was gonna happen tomorrow, or any other day. But who cared?

"_But now I think my dream is different_

_As long as you are near—_

_Whenever we're together,_

_We're at home...right...here..."_

Fin


End file.
